Speak Up! I Can't Hear You
by TheLetterQ
Summary: Some Marvel side characters remember what they once were and what they had to say.


**Disclaimer:** This was triggered by my rage over the stupidity of Deadpool's appearance in Wolverine: Origins. I don't own any of these characters. They're all property of Marvel Comics.

**Speak Up! I Can't Hear You...**

"Well you're my agent!" Deadpool hollered into the receiver of the pay phone at the local bar. "Can't you fix this some how?"

"Please deposit 25 cents." answered the automated, female-sounding voice on the other end of the line.

"I know Stan, money makes the world go round but C'MON! Have you _seen_ what they've done to me? What am I, The Joker?"

"Please deposit 25 cents."

"No, _you _tell Fox Films to deposit 25 cents. A big, shiny ol' coin right up their keester! Hello? Stan?"

The monotone sounded like a flat-line in his ear as the line, and his reputation fell dead in his ear. With a sigh, Deadpool placed the receiver on the cradle. Then, he remember that he was angry so he lifted the receiver once again, slamming it back down so hard part of it chipped.  
He stalked back to his stool and lowered himself heavy onto it. Flagging down the bar tender, he ordered a beer.

"I can't believe it. First Scans Daily, now this. All my character, everything that makes me _me_...gagged." He held his head in his palms, elbows heavy on the bar. "They'd never do this to Wolverine, or even the Hulk. What I wouldn't give to be killed off-screen like Cyclops." Deadpool's head shot up as he got an idea. "I know! I'll call Tony Stark and make him front the cash for _my own_ movie! Deadpool: The Merc with a Movie-deal. Naahh, Stark would never go for it. Besides, if he found out I swiped a Stark Industry brain paralyzing thing..."

"You aware you're talkin' out loud, right?" The man at the end of the bar asked. His fingers were lightly curled around the neck of a beer bottle, but the bandages covering his mouth made it hard to drink, Deadpool wagered.

"It happens sometimes. Why do you care?"

"You were sayin'?"

Deadpool narrowed his eyes and thought for a second. His company seemed mildly familiar. "Oh, I remember you! You're that X-Man with the fire in his belly. And you have a thing for tween pop stars. Jono, right?"

Jono shifted, returning his attention to his frosty bottle. "Sugar Kane was not one of my more dignified moments."

"Still with the X-Men?"

Jono shrugged.

"M'eh. Ok, so get this, Fox Movies want to sew my mouth shut! They want to keep me quiet, permanently! I swear if they do that, I will go Tyler Durden on their asses. I will break into each and every projection booth, take every film reel and splice in a picture of my pe-..."

"Whoa, whoa! Hey, too much info there. Cool it." Jono waved a hand at him, gesturing for Deadpool to tone it down. "And that's it? They want to shut you up in a movie?"

"I dunno if you noticed, kid, but talkin's kinda my thing."

"Oh, I noticed. But so what?"

"So what?! They want to make me go HUSH! Worse than that, they want me to be..." Deadpool's voice dropped to a near whisper. "...out of character."

"No, they want an actor portraying you to to wear make up that looks like stitches. I fail to see the tragedy."

"Let me break it down for you, EZ-Log-the-Fire-Log-that-burns-EZ, my mind is a constant kaleidoscope of thoughts and names and faces and words and ideas. I gotta talk. I gotta get it out. It's just my function. If I don't spew out this stuff my head will explode."

Jono thumped his bottle down onto the bar so that some beer erupted out of it like a little volcano and splashed onto the bar-top. "You wanna talk about getting things _out_?" He asked with malice lacing his psionic voice. "About heads explodin'?"

"That's why I'm talkin' Limey!"

"Ok then, what about me? Where's it fair that I don't have a gorram mouth or chest just because some all-imaginative whoever thought it was _cool looking_? Where'd my looks go? My voice, aye? I wanted to be a rock star! Then Skin! He got killed! And then they got his name wrong! You think your life is hard? Speakin' of hard, how 'bout Penance? Bloody Hell she's a bigger freak than all of us."

Something in the corner shuffled and the two men turned to see two piercing blue eyes starring back at them from the shadows. After a few more shuffling sounds followed by some scraping sounds, the figure crawled into the meager light. Jono shrank back.

"Sorry Penny," He apologized genuinely. "I didn't know you were here."

"Penance?" Deadpool guessed, pointing at the black leather entangled girl. Jono nodded and Deadpool pushed his neck forward to get a closer look. "Yeah, she is ...something."

Penance moved about on the balls of her feet, tucked into a defensive half crouch as she made her way to Jono's side, sniffing at the spilled beer, then dipping one of long claw-like digits into the liquid. She dragged it out and drew a lazy spiral, her focus almost completely on her artwork.

"We don't really know what's wrong with her. She doesn't talk. We just know she was a prisoner and probably tortured."

"Tortured?" Deadpool's eyes seemed to widen as he hopped from his stool and walked over to the silent girl. "Who'd wanna hurt a pretty girl like you?"

Penance froze, her body tense as she zeroed in on Deadpool's approach. He held out his hand. "I ain't gonna hurt you, girl. I'm called Deadpool, I just wanna be your friend."

Jono eyed the whole situation, Deadpool holding his hand out to Penance like she were a dog to sniff it. He found the whole thing rather pathetic.  
That is, until, Penance put her finger to Deadpool's palm, resting it there, her blank gaze seeming slightly curious.

"Huh. So, Penny, right?"

Penance was non-responsive.

"I wonder what you have to say...?"


End file.
